


Hurricane

by ChloeDevanport



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Emotional Hurt, Gay John Laurens, Ghost John Laurens, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeDevanport/pseuds/ChloeDevanport
Summary: A storm is brewing and Alexander is in the middle of it. The only way out seems to be a confession, but it's risky and while Alex ponders what he can do to protect his legacy, thoughts come to mind that should have been buried deep ...
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Hurricane

The wind shook the wooden shutters relentlessly and Alexander sat slumped at his desk. The three men had hardly left his house when what had just happened had caught up with him.

What was he thinking? Why did he think he had to justify himself? Above all, he owed no explanation to Jefferson. The bills and documents would have been enough to prove his innocence and if they had asked where all the money had gone to, he could have simply said it was none of their business. Instead, he had even shown them the letters he had written to Maria and the fateful letter from her husband as well.

And now? Now, Jefferson, Madison, and Burr had the perfect means to destroy him, his career, and his whole life. Everything would just collapse like a house of cards if it were made public. His reputation, his good name, his legacy ... all that would be gone. Everything would have been in vain. And words had always been his greatest weapon. But now they had turned against him and if he did nothing it would be his downfall.

Alexander looked out the window. The sky was gray and overcast. Like shreds of ghosts, they wandered restlessly, seeming to mock him and laugh at him. A storm was brewing, he could feel it. The air around him suddenly felt used up and he had the feeling that he could no longer breathe properly. As if the iron grip of his own wrong decisions were gripping him tightly.

Alexander slowly pushed back the chair and stood up. The thoughts raced around in his head, but he was unable to grasp any of them. Without really looking, he took his coat from the coat rack and opened the door. He ignored his son's question about where he was going and so Philip was left with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Without a specific goal in mind, Alexander put one foot in front of the other while his thoughts spun around the now all-important question. What should he do now? How should he protect himself and everything he had created?

A cool gust of wind tore his dark hair and brought tears to his eyes. A storm ... verily. And if he didn't do anything, this storm would just sweep everything away with it. Just like a hurricane once destroyed his home, but this time he wouldn't be able to fight his way back to the top with just words. Unless…

No, that was crazy. Even he wouldn't go that far just to protect his good name. Simply admitting everything to yourself bordered on social suicide. On the other hand ... maybe he would be forgiven if he himself admitted what he had done. If he just gave his honest opinion, as usual. That had always helped him so far, but it was also the reason that he now sank so deep into the morass of his own sins. Alexander sighed softly and wrapped his arms around his chest.

To take the pen in hand and write everything down. That was his only way out. There would be no other way to protect his legacy. There was only one option left for him.

Or you could just let go ...

Alexander winced and stopped dead in his tracks. An ice-cold shiver ran down his spine, followed by a tremor so severe that his legs would have stopped working if he hadn't supported himself on an old, gnarled tree. Had he just imagined it? Was it just the rustling of the wind that his troubled mind had turned into words? No, definitely not. He hadn't imagined that. He may have been desperate, but not mentally confused. Nevertheless ... there was nobody to be seen far and wide, not a soul was out there except him.

Let go, Alexander, just let go ...

There, again. This time he had heard it very clearly. His ears didn't fool him. There was a voice. A voice that got his heart out of sync and then made it pound with pain. Alexander pressed his lips together.  
He knew the voice. But the person to whom the voice belonged had been under the ground for years. Alexander closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. So he had only imagined it. There was no one here to stop him. No one to tell him to just let it go. Nobody would put a hand on his shoulder and take the pen out of his hand. Especially since only one person could have done that anyway ...

Alexander smiled, but it was a sad smile, eaten away by pain that he had carried with him for years and simply couldn't bury. "John, if only you were here ..." The name slipped so easily over his lips, although he hadn't spoken it in what felt like an eternity. But now that he had done it, the irrepressible desire to utter it many more times - no, to scream it so that the rising wind could take it and carry it to the farthest corners of the world.

John. John Laurens. His John.

Alexander grabbed his chest, where his heart was still beating painfully, and stopped. If he was here now, he would talk him out of it. He could stop him, he would have the power to do it. One word from his mouth, one look, and Alexander would do anything John told him to do. God, was he kidding himself? If John were here now, he would throw himself crying in his arms and never let go of him. He would hold onto him and swear not to lose him again since he had failed so miserably to protect him in the past.

"John ..." 

Alexander looked up at the sky and the world seemed to stand still for a brief moment. Even the wind ebbed, just as if he were in the eye of the storm. "John, I need you, more than ever before." A sob wanted to fight its way up to his throat and Alexander grabbed his throat, he felt his eyes burn and screwed them together. If he gave in to it now, he would break inside and nobody would be able to put this pile of broken pieces back together.

"John, I'm sorry ..." 

A low whisper that was carried away. An empty apology that came too late to have any meaning. Alexander swallowed the pain and tried to suppress the images that were trying to get the upper hand in his head. Images of starry, cold nights in a dimly lit tent in which the heated air had been filled with sweet words of tenderness. Images of fingers gliding over skin that was almost feverishly hot and leaving scars on the soul. Images of eyes that were forever burned into Alexander’s mind.

But it was now too late for all of that. The time was not gracious and had no pity on anyone, not even Alexander, who now straightened his shoulders and returned home at a quick pace. Although he had the feeling that invisible hands were reaching for him and trying to stop him, he took off his coat in his study, grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.

His fingers trembled and for a short moment, he didn't think he had the strength because the thoughts of John had shaken his heart. But then he remembered that he was alone at this moment and that he had also made this momentous decision on his own. Alexander took a deep breath and then began to write, as he had done it many times before.

And he was well aware of the fact that John would be terribly disappointed in him if he could see him now, but he couldn't think of that now. Now, right now, only one thing really mattered. His legacy that he would leave to the world. His legacy.


End file.
